A Star Danced
by LilinasWrites
Summary: Expectation Fails one-shot #8! It's Blaine's birthday and Kurt is pulling out all the stops. All of them. All the way out.
1. Chapter 1

Kurt wasn't where he was supposed to be.

He was supposed to be at Blaine's apartment, meeting him there so they could go out for a special birthday dinner at La Frite, a French bistro two towns over that Blaine had been dying to try. He'd practically wet himself with excitement when Kurt told him he'd gotten a reservation.

Except Kurt had never made a reservation at La Frite. And now, instead of driving to Blaine's, he was pacing his bedroom like a leopard in a cage (and in fact, he was wearing his leopard cardigan so the comparison was apropos), pausing now and then by the mirror to stare in his own eyes and try to reassure himself that what he actually had planned would be so much better. And that he was going to be able to pull it off. Although the butterflies in his stomach were making some very eloquent arguments to the contrary.

But he'd prepared everything perfectly. He'd gone over and over every detail in his own head, and out loud with Thomas and Mira, who had become his own personal how-to-dominate mentors since dom class had ended a few weeks before. They both assured him that Blaine would love every second of it. Even the loss of La Frite. Thomas had said that if Blaine was disappointed, that would only make everything _better._ Kurt knew every moment of the upcoming hours by heart, every word and action. And he didn't need to fear any unexpected outcomes because the whole point was that he was in complete control.

On his next trip past the mirror he stopped and stared himself down, straightening his sweater (which was completely inappropriate for an August afternoon, but he needed a little predator energy). "Cock!" he told the mirror emphatically, just to remind himself of how much he'd been afraid of in those early days, and how far he'd come, and how wonderful that journey had been. His reflection grinned back at him.

He wasn't grinning as much when he thumbed his phone on to look at the time. Five forty. With a sigh he grabbed The Great Gatsby – his summer reading assignment – from his nightstand and settled on his bed to wait. He hated waiting.

* * *

><p>Blaine loved waiting.<p>

Well, that wasn't strictly true. He'd never really thought of himself as an especially patient person, under normal circumstances. But waiting like this, his knees pressing into the bare floorboards, his naked skin shivering in odd places despite the August warmth, his shoulders twitching under the stretch of his formal position, hands cupping elbows behind his back, waiting for Kurt, being made to wait by Kurt, this he adored.

Although he had to admit he'd been a little annoyed to find the curb in front of his building not occupied by Kurt's Navigator when he'd pulled into his driveway earlier that evening. Okay, more than a little. He'd had very specific plans for his birthday. He was going to sleep late, wake up snuggling naked with Kurt, and pretty much spend the rest of the day the same way. Then they were going to go out to an amazing dinner and come home to amazing sex afterward, which he very much hoped included an orgasm for him (he couldn't imagine what else Kurt might have been building up to with the recent record-breaking twenty-three days of denial) and if he was very, very lucky a nice birthday spanking over Kurt's perfect lap.

But it hadn't happened that way at all. Kurt had disappeared early with excuses about some life-shattering project Carole needed him for (on Blaine's birthday!), and then Cooper – who'd come into town with Lauren to celebrate the big day and meet Kurt for the first time – had called and insisted he come out to lunch with them. He would have suspected some kind of surprise party in the offing if he hadn't made Kurt swear by his favorite Marc Jacobs sweater that they could spend the evening together, just the two of them. He'd even put off his own family birthday dinner until the next day just so tonight could be all about them. But nothing had gone right and he'd barely seen his boyfriend since breakfast and all he wanted as he climbed out of his car into the crushing August heat was Kurt, a shower, Kurt, dinner, and Kurt.

But Kurt wasn't there.

Instead, he'd found a note, tacked to his apartment door, that had made everything alright again.

It sat on his coffee table now, carefully flattened out next to his phone. If he turned his head he'd see it, but of course he wasn't going to turn his head. That was okay, he'd stared at it long enough, there on his doorstep, while trying futilely to reassemble the scrambled Rubik's cube of his brain, that he'd committed it to memory.

_Boy,_ it began, in Kurt's familiar script.

_Boy,_

_We're not going out to dinner._

_When you get inside you are to strip, take a shower, and eat what I left for you. By 7:00 you will be on your knees in the living room in formal position, wearing nothing but your cuff. You will kneel on the bare floor. You will not move until I get there._

_You are not to go into the bedroom for any reason._

_And tonight you may call me master._

Blaine was nothing if not obedient. So promptly at seven, stripped, fed and cleaned, he had fallen to his knees and arranged himself so that he would be the first thing Kurt saw when he opened the door, displayed there for his master's pleasure. And the waiting had begun.

His cock had risen in anticipation before Blaine had even finished folding his arms behind his back, then flagged when it became apparent Kurt wasn't coming through the door right at seven, then risen again when Blaine realized Kurt was doing it on purpose. Making him wait. Leaving him there all stretched and posed with no one to appreciate him. And the more his body ached under the strain of the position the more that thought wriggled into his brain, burrowing into the places where his deepest fantasies lived. He didn't matter. Kurt would do as he liked, go where he liked, come home when he liked. And Blaine would stay, perfectly still in the advancing gloom, no matter how his muscles protested, ready to serve his master when his master chose to be served. The thought made Blaine shudder before he caught himself and forced his body still again. And as the minutes ticked away he filled his head with just one thought – Kurt.

A year ago – exactly – on his last birthday, he'd only just moved into this apartment. He'd given up everything he'd ever worked for and come back here, Ohio, a place he'd thought he'd put behind him for good. He'd come home to lick his wounds and find a way to make himself believe that he could live a happy life without a soulmate. And Kurt, Kurt hadn't even been marked yet, he didn't know his soulmate's name or even his own designation. He'd never touched another person, never even kissed another boy.

_Boy. Master._ Those words in Kurt's script rose before Blaine's eyes. They were Blaine's words, not Kurt's. They were Kurt's first present to him, a signal of sorts. Because Kurt knew that Blaine had been obsessing over the end of their summer, and that he was terrified of the moment – now barely a week away – when they had to go back to a weekends-only existence. Kurt, beautiful Kurt, was giving Blaine permission to let go completely. To not worry about keeping one eye open to make sure Kurt was okay. That's what the words were for, short, terse words that were both Kurt and yet not Kurt. Tonight all the things he had to be in his real life were gone. Tonight he was nothing but his master's boy.

Kneeling there, twisted and contorted and held by the bonds of his obedience to Kurt, he couldn't remember ever feeling so free.

* * *

><p>Kurt had to take a minute before he pushed his keys into Blaine's front door. His note was gone, and he hadn't received a texted safeword, so he knew what he would find when he walked into the apartment. Blaine would be obediently kneeling there, naked, still except for the tiny involuntary twitches from over-stressed muscles that he could never quite control no matter how hard he tried. His head would be up, his eyes down, in perfect form as he waited. Waited for Kurt to come and rock his birthday world.<p>

But no pressure.

He took a deep, deliberate breath, the kind he always took when he was standing on a dark stage before the curtain went up. Rachel said dominating was a performance like any other, "You have to _prepare_, Kurt," and although the more experience of his own he got the less he tended to agree with Rachel about matters of sex, he had to admit that in this she was right. He wouldn't be acting, no matter how much he'd rehearsed it in his head. And maybe on paper. With diagrams. He knew as soon as he looked into Blaine's open, vulnerable gaze it would all fall into place perfectly. No performing, just being. With Blaine.

But the pre-curtain jitters were exactly the same.

At moments like these Kurt liked to recall what he'd told his dad the day he'd introduced Blaine to his family. That fate had given him Blaine at that exact moment because Blaine was what he needed. He wasn't above preening a little at that idea. After all, the strictest doms New York had to offer hadn't been enough to satisfy Blaine. No. Only he could do that. Kurt Hummel.

That made him smile, but he erased it quickly, just in case Blaine was peeking (although of course he never would), and turned the keys in the lock.

The picture inside the living room was exactly as Kurt had expected, Blaine's sculpted body twisted into his difficult formal position, perfectly still and so obedient that his eyes didn't even glance in Kurt's direction. Only a tiny, stuttering inhale gave away the fact that he even knew Kurt was in the room. Normally Kurt would take a good long minute to let the image of his kneeling, naked submissive knock his socks off, and then hurry to touch him, hold him, smile into his eyes, but that wasn't on the menu tonight. He had a plan. It was a good plan. He liked the plan. And Blaine was going to love the plan. So Instead he closed and locked the door and went to the closet to hang up his jacket. He took his time, drawing it out; behind him he could feel the anticipation radiating from Blaine's body. When he finally turned to face Blaine he didn't speak or acknowledge him in any way. He counted slowly to three inside his head . . . then walked right past him and into the kitchen.

As soon as he was behind Blaine he was free to look, of course, and he turned around just in time to catch a shudder rippling down the muscles of Blaine's gently arched back. He had to press his lips together to control the force of the grin that threatened to break into a full-blown laugh. Thomas had said that being ignored would turn Blaine on, but this was even better than Kurt had expected. Blaine was visibly trembling, and his fingers twitched and flexed where they gripped his elbows behind his back.

"Be still," Kurt commanded, loud enough in the quiet room that Blaine startled, but his hands went lax against his arms.

Kurt indulged in the view for another moment, drawing this out for himself as much as for Blaine. His boy was just as beautiful from the back as he was from the front, with his broad shoulders tapering down to his narrow waist, and the delectable swell of his ass just below, resting against his calves. Even in the deepening evening shadow, Kurt could see his ribs expand and contract with long, slow inhales and exhales. They were smoother now; as excited as he was, Blaine was keeping himself calm and focused, and Kurt's heart swelled with pride. The whole point of this, of course, was to keep Blaine off-center and guessing, to pull the rug out from under him, in a sense, and Blaine was reacting just as he should, staying in the moment and ready to do whatever Kurt commanded.

Slowly and deliberately, Kurt went to the cabinet, got a glass, and filled it with cold water from the pitcher he kept in the refrigerator. Then finally he walked back to Blaine, stood close behind him, just to watch him start to tremble again, then walked around his kneeling form to take in the best view of all.

Blaine's head was up, just as Kurt liked it, with his eyes were lowered to the floor so Kurt couldn't make out his expression at all. But the gentle flush that colored his chest and cheeks spoke for itself. His chest rose and fell faster as control became more difficult. And of course his cock, his poor, denied, beautiful cock, twisted upright and eager as if it was anxious to prove that it knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that its master was here. And below it, between Blaine's spread thighs, his balls hung heavy and oh so full. Kurt had made Blaine wait longer than ever before, in preparation for this night, and had been merciless in his teasing. He didn't need Thomas or Mira to tell him that the more desperate Blaine was, the better everything would be for him. And for Kurt too. He couldn't wait to get his hands on that body, feel as well as see the trembling that Blaine was less and less able to control as he knelt under Kurt's silent scrutiny. His whole body was drawn tight as a bowstring, ready to loose, ready to fly to accomplish any order Kurt gave him.

But Kurt gave no order. Instead he took a long, slow sip of the cool water, then silently offered Blaine his left arm.

Blaine's eyes rose to Kurt's cuff, but no farther, and for the first time Kurt felt his own body begin to stir in response. Perfect, perfect Blaine. Still so controlled. Tonight Kurt was going to destroy that control. But he would let Blaine believe, first, that this might be as easy as kneeling, waiting and serving.

Blaine moved immediately; his fingers didn't fumble even a little, despite the stiffness he must have been feeling after so long in a difficult position. He unbuckled Kurt's cuff, slipped it from his wrist, then lowered his eyes again to the floor as he held up the cuff for Kurt to take. As soon as Blaine's hands were empty they folded again against his back, returning to their proper position as if they'd never moved. Kurt set the cuff on the table next to Blaine's phone and his own note, picked up a magazine from the small stack Blaine kept there, and sat on the sofa, far enough behind Blaine to be completely out of his peripheral vision, to read.

Well, to pretend to read. What he really did was watch Blaine, although he carefully and noisily turned a page every few minutes just to keep up appearances. He watched Blaine twitch and tremble, watched his breathing speed up and slow down, watched from behind as his submissive struggled to understand what was happening. He watched and waited. He wasn't waiting for anything in particular. Kurt had learned to trust his instincts where these things were concerned. He'd know when it was time. So he watched and flipped and fidgeted (silently, of course, he had to keep up the image) until finally Blaine's shoulders relaxed again – as much as they could in that position – and the rise and fall of his breath slowed and evened.

"How long has it been," Kurt asked as casually as if he was inquiring about the weather, "since you came?"

It wasn't a disingenuous question. Kurt honestly never kept track. He knew Blaine always knew, almost to the hour, so he didn't really bother with exact times. When he felt like it was time to let Blaine come, he did. Instinct.

"Twenty-three days, master," Blaine said, speaking for the first time since Kurt had come into the apartment. Kurt didn't actually care how many days it had been, he only wanted to hear Blaine's voice, and in its loose and gentle tone he found what he was looking for. Blaine was ready.

"Go kneel on the floor next to the bed and wait for me."

If Kurt's order surprised Blaine, or indeed affected him in any way, he didn't show it. He was exactly where Kurt wanted him. Living in the moment, not anticipating whatever might be coming next. "Yes, master," he said, still calm, even, and he rose in one loose, fluid movement and left the room. Kurt watched him go until his perfect ass was out of sight, then abandoned his magazine and took another sip of water. More waiting. God, he hated waiting.

* * *

><p>Blaine was in heaven. Better than heaven, he was balanced like a virtuoso tight-rope walker between his two favorite states of existence. The way Kurt had made him wait, and then ignored and objectified him so deliberately, had started his slide into the place where nothing in the world but his master and his master's orders existed, but he wasn't sliding so fast that he forgot to wiggle his ass just a little as he left the room. Just in case Kurt was watching.<p>

The trembling that had quieted during the long kneeling wait in the living room came back, though, as he faced the heretofore forbidden bedroom door. There was something in there, he knew, or Kurt wouldn't have declared it off-limits before. He'd been so anxious to know what it was, before, his cock had given a little hopeful surge every time he'd walked past it while he was preparing. But now that the moment of truth had arrived, he hesitated, resting his palm flat against the wood. He was, after all, all about the buildup.

But orders must be obeyed and so he slid his hand down to the knob, closed his eyes, and turned.

He didn't peek until he was inside, with the door closed behind him again. He leaned against its firm support and opened his eyes.

It was darker here than in the living room – this window faced east – but there was still plenty of light to see the bed, stripped of duvet and top sheets, covered only with the fitted one from Blaine's old sheet set, the brown and yellow pinstriped one that Kurt had replaced months ago. On top of the bed were two packages wrapped in yellow paisley paper and topped with artful bows. One was somewhat flat and rectangular, the other an almost perfect cube. Birthday presents. Which Blaine was sure must contain some wonderfully kinky things, but was it really necessary to make the whole room off-limits just for them?

It was when he moved to switch on the bedside lamp – so they wouldn't be interrupted as darkness fell, that they wouldn't be interrupted as darkness fell, that Blaine's eyes found the first real change Kurt had made to the room.

Eye bolts, three of them, had been screwed firmly into his wooden headboard. One on each side, a third dead center, and Blaine's heart accelerated from trot to canter because there was only one thing eye bolts like that would be used for. Bondage. Tying someone to the bed. Tying _him_, obviously, to the bed. Tonight.

He took a few steps closer, forcing himself to breath in the slow, controlled way he'd learned long ago in his sub classes. Which was easier said than done when he'd waited so long for this and it was going to happen, now, _tonight, _and his cock was throbbing with so much blood that he was pretty sure there wasn't any left for his brain. He turned around, putting his back to the bed and the _bondage points_ to try and regain some control and that was absolutely the wrong thing to do because . . . oh.

It hung from the ceiling near his dresser. He had no idea how he'd managed to miss it when he'd first opened his eyes, but now that he saw it every other thought was wiped from his brain. A pulley. A small, shining metal pulley, firmly attached to the high ceiling, and _rope_, black nylon rope, running through it, wrapped at one end around a cleat screwed into the wall and at the other, through the pulley and hanging just above Blaine's eye level, tied to a bondage clip that swung gently in the breeze he'd created when he'd opened and shut the door.

There was only one thing you did with an apparatus like that.

The room suddenly went several shades darker. Blaine didn't remember falling to his knees, but when he found himself there he automatically pulled his arms into his master's favorite position behind his back. He should have lowered his eyes as well but he couldn't, he literally couldn't drag his gaze away from the pulley, attached to the ceiling, eight-foot ceilings in this old house, high enough to pull him right up onto his toes, and even higher, and he thought maybe his chest was shrinking because his lungs didn't quite seem to fit anymore and he needed control, control or he was going to come all over himself right here on the floor and then his master would need to punish him and he'd never know how it would feel to dangle helpless from the ceiling and be tormented by those beautiful hands . . .

Blaine didn't hear the door open, but he heard it slam closed and then hands were cool on his face and stormy blue eyes bored into his; he tried to focus on the face in front of him but the edges kept blurring softly and he couldn't quite stretch his chest enough to breathe.

"Blaine? Hey, decrescendo. Decrescendo Blaine," Kurt said, softly, his voice full of concern.

Blaine didn't care about the concern. His heart plummeted to the floor and he reached for Kurt's shoulders, clinging to them. "No! Please don't stop!" he begged. "I want this so much."

"I know, I know you do and I'm not stopping, I promise." Kurt captured Blaine's hands in his own and rubbed them, chafing heat into cold fingers. "But I need you to just slow down, okay. And breathe with me. Because if you hyperventilate we will have to stop, and you'll be spending your birthday in the emergency room. Breathe. Nice and slow."

Kurt modeled a long, slow inhale and Blaine, eyes locked on Kurt's, forced his body to imitate it. He wasn't sure how long they sat there, just breathing, Blaine drawing strength from Kurt's assurance, but eventually the soft-focus sharpened again and breathing felt natural, instead of something he had to make himself accomplish. Kurt saw the change as soon as it happened; he stopped rubbing Blaine's hands and caressed up his arms to hold him by the shoulders.

"Better now?" he smiled.

Blaine smiled back. "I guess I got a little excited," he said ruefully.

"Well to be fair, that was the idea." Kurt rummaged in a bag that Blaine only now noticed on the floor next to them and pulled out a bottle of water and a straw. He twisted the top off, popped in the straw, and held it out. "Here, drink."

The water seemed to ground him even further; Kurt stared at him as he handed it back, evaluating, and whatever he saw must have satisfied him because he took Blaine's hand again and smiled. "I just need you to remember that this is for you. There's no way you can get it wrong. All you have to do is follow orders."

"I'm very obedient."

Kurt's smile widened. "Of course you are. Do you want to start again?"

"So much," Blaine said, so fervently that Kurt giggled.

"Well," he said, and Blaine watched, fascinated, as the practiced dom slowly overtook the concerned boyfriend in his expression, "that doesn't look anything like correct kneeling posture, does it?"

"No master," Blaine said, still smiling at Kurt for just one more moment before he lowered his eyes and began to twist back into position. He dropped his shoulders, consciously, let tension fall away as he inhaled, slowly and deliberately.

Kurt grabbed his bag and the bottle of water and disappeared behind Blaine, toward the bed. When he moved back into Blaine's line of sight he held the cube-shaped present in his hands. "Okay. First birthday present."

He tossed it in Blaine's lap, not hard, but with unerring aim and since Blaine's hands were twisted behind his back it smacked sharply against his half-hard cock with a shock of pain that made Blaine yelp, then rolled, as much as a cube can roll, onto the floor.

"Go ahead. Open it."

Blaine was still grappling with what Kurt had done – hurting him, on purpose, on his _dick_ – and found he could only gape at Kurt.

"If you don't open it, I might start thinking you don't want it."

Still Blaine stared. If this was how they were starting, where the fuck was Kurt planning to end up?

"You can use your hands," Kurt said, and that must have been the signal Blaine's body was looking for because his arms unfolded and his fingers began to grapple with the package. He tried to be careful, because he knew how much Kurt liked to save nice wrapping paper, but the slippery paper kept avoiding his grasp and when Kurt started tapping his foot pointedly, he gave up and just ripped.

The box inside was brown and unmarked, taped closed, loosely, thank God, or Blaine would never have gotten it open. He pulled the flaps aside and stared, speechless, at the contents.

Cuffs. Two. Beautiful black leather cuffs, not the kind you wore to hide a mark, the kind with straps and D-rings, wide and strong to support – to support a person, a pulling, writhing, _hanging_ person. Cuffs for binding and holding, for attaching him to whatever his master chose to attach him to.

Kurt moved into Blaine's line of sight, kneeling in front of him, and Blaine could see that for Kurt, something had changed. His expression was imperious – the dom was definitely back – but his eyes burned with intensity. Blaine, who hadn't been told to speak, tried to express through his eyes alone what this gift meant to him.

"Give me your arm," Kurt said, and Blaine knew he meant the right one. He held it out and Kurt nimbly unbuckled the cuff that covered his mark, slipped it off and set it aside. Blaine simply stared as first one new cuff then the other were buckled tightly onto his wrists. They were heavier than his normal cuff; their weight at the end of his arms made him feel bound even before Kurt selected one of the clips that had been under them in the box and used it to attach them, effectively tying Blaine's hands together in his lap.

He was glad Kurt hadn't ordered him to speak. He couldn't have said a word if he'd wanted to.

Kurt moved again, then, standing up and going back to the bed for the second present. Blaine's hands in his lap protected his cock this time when the large, flat box landed there. Blaine wasn't sure whether he was grateful or sorry.

"Open it," Kurt ordered again.

With his hands cuffed together Blaine didn't even try for neatness this time. The paisley paper fell away to reveal a plain white shirt box, but when he lifted the lid he found about the farthest thing from a shirt he could imagine.

It was a paddle.

His head started to spin again but this time he knew what to do, he raised his eyes to the boy standing over him, tall and strong, one eyebrow lifted in a silent order. Eyes locked on his dom he took three slow breaths before lowering his gaze to the box again.

"Good boy," Kurt whispered above him, sending a curving wave of desire flowing up Blaine's body. Or it may have been the paddle that caused that particular wave.

It was long-handled, shaped like one of those lady's hand mirrors you see in vintage still-lifes. But instead of silver, it was black, completely covered in leather that was clearly brand-new and tooled with a vaguely celtic design of whorls and lines on the back. It was maybe the most beautiful thing Blaine had ever seen, although his opinion was almost certainly affected by the knowledge of what Kurt was probably going to do with it.

"Pick it up," Kurt said, his voice deeper now, full of an absolute authority that Blaine had only rarely heard from him before.

It was heavy. Heavier than it looked.

"It's not a birthday without a spanking, is it?"

Blaine raised his eyes back to Kurt. "No master." He didn't even have to reach for the title. The way Kurt stood there, so still yet so in control above him, demanded it. And he received it without a hint of self-consciousness, in fact it seemed to make him stand even taller. Which made Blaine want to sing.

"Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," Blaine breathed.

"I'm glad you think so. Because you're going to be getting very well acquainted with it. Twenty-eight, after all."

Blaine's heart quaked a little at the thought of twenty-eight strokes with what was bound to be a wicked paddle, but his cock bounced its approval, surging so hard that it knocked the empty box off his lap and right onto the floor.

Kurt's laugh rang over his head, musical, and not the slightest bit giggly. And then in the kind of about-face that always made Blaine's head spin he ordered "Stand up," without a hint of humor.

Blaine stood, only struggling a little with his bound hands. Face to face now, he could feel the intensity radiating off of Kurt. Blue eyes burned into him, leaving him feeling small and a little stunned, hungry for the touch of those long-fingered hands. His balls felt heavy and tight and his ass was practically twitching in anticipation. But Kurt didn't touch him, not yet. He tilted his head in the direction of the dresser, the direction of the pulley hanging from the ceiling. Still holding the paddle, Blaine moved on shaky legs to stand just under it.

Kurt followed him with slow steps, devouring Blaine with his eyes. The pleasure Blaine could see as his master looked at him only aroused him more.

"I'll take that," Kurt murmured, lifting the paddle from Blaine's hands and setting it on the dresser. "Hands above your head."

This was it. Blaine had to take another slow breath, and Kurt gave him time for it, before he could raise his arms up toward the pulley. He closed his eyes, wanting to feel every tiny movement, as Kurt reached for the rope over his head and joined its clip to the one holding his wrists together. He heard Kurt move away, and then the rope began to tighten, the pulley squeaked with tiny, metallic sounds, and his arms were stretched, gently at first, then more, and even more until he was pulled just the tiniest bit onto his toes. His feet were still firmly on the floor, but the lift gave the illusion that he was hanging, stretching the muscles in his arms tight.

He'd been afraid he would lose control again, like before, once he was actually hanging from the ceiling. But it was exactly the opposite. He felt . . . safe. Held. Like the constraint on his body created a matching constraint on his emotions. He burned with desire and anticipation, but being bound like this added a layer of calm acceptance to his need. His master was in control now, he had no more choices, and he was safe.

"Open your eyes," Kurt's voice was close, and Blaine obeyed, focusing on intent blue eyes only inches from his own. Kurt's pink lips curved up gently at the corners. "You look beautiful like this," he said, reverently, as if Blaine was his own personal idol.

There were galaxies spinning in Kurt's eyes, illuminating the dim room, and Blaine wanted to tell him that he was beautiful too, like this, standing so tall in his own strength and authority, but as Kurt lifted a hand to smooth damp curls off of Blaine's forehead only one word managed to escape Blaine's lips.

"Please."

"Please what?" Kurt whispered, his lips inches from Blaine's own.

"Everything," Blaine murmured back, and between them his cock danced its agreement.

Kurt's eyebrows lifted in a thoroughly Kurt-like way that did nothing to diminish his position as _master_. He picked up the paddle again and held it between their bodies.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Blaine managed. "Yes, master."

"Then turn around."

Putting his back to Kurt, with that paddle, made him feel acutely vulnerable, which only turned him on more. Kurt took a step back, but at the same time he rested his hand on Blaine's shoulder, a reassuring weight keeping him grounded. Then, with a spasm of desire, Blaine felt what had to be the edge of the paddle, so soft for such a wicked tool, trace down his spine, over the crack of his ass, then press flat against one cheek – a warning and a promise.

"You don't need to count," Kurt said. Blaine could hear a quiver in his voice and wished desperately that he could see Kurt's face. "I'll do it. I just want you to feel."

The first smack came almost before Kurt finished his sentence, catching Blaine off guard with no time to prepare. The second followed quickly on the opposite cheek, then the flat of the paddle pressed against the first cheek again.

Blaine pressed back into it, wanting Kurt to know that he was good, he could take more. His ass stung, of course, but he knew that paddle could be more punishing. He really hoped Kurt was only warming up.

Three and four fell harder, and Blaine's cock dribbled a little precome in eager anticipation. Two more, harder still, and the pain began to warm and deepen, reaching the muscles under his skin, and Blaine dropped his head forward with a moan of pure pleasure and gave himself over to burning sensation. The blows came faster, then, harder, and the ache broke through the haze of _yes please more_ with explosions of bright, shattering pain. But he knew this. He'd been here a hundred times and he forced his breath deep and slow, moved his body back where Kurt wanted it after it twitched involuntarily away from each blow, let its stress escape in quiet, controlled cries. His skin was hot and getting hotter and he waited for it, as the blows rained down, and Kurt's hand tightened against his shoulder, he waited for that moment of critical mass when the fire of agony transformed into ecstasy.

It came with a blow that caught the underside of his ass and ripped his control away, and for a moment he floundered, lost in the pain with no anchor, but Kurt's hand held firm and blows rained down and he remembered that pain itself was the anchor and then _God_, it was beautiful, perfect, hot and needy and his cries became moans; behind him he could hear Kurt gasping, moved, his master was moved by his pain and then it was only the pain itself that kept him from coming all over himself. He arched his back as best he could, offering his ass to the blows, for his master's pleasure, begging for more, to be allowed to suffer just that little bit more.

He didn't even realize the spanking was over until Kurt's arm wrapped around his waist and Kurt's voice whispered hot against his ear, "And one to grow on," and the paddle came down one last time on flesh that felt swollen to twice its normal size, and Blaine's chest contracted around a last sharp cry.

Something thumped to the floor, the paddle, it must have been, because Kurt's empty hand cupped one ass cheek, thumb smoothing over the abused flesh. The lightest touch that was still too much, Blaine moaned and a shudder twisted up his spine.

"Don't move," Kurt whispered, and then his warmth was gone and Blaine was hanging, alone. He whined a tiny sound at being suddenly bereft of Kurt's support and the hand came back in a brief, reassuring touch. "Don't worry, I'm right here. Just hold on . . ."

Then he was back, pressing against Blaine again, and oh, it was so much better because he was naked and Blaine could feel Kurt's cock pressing against his throbbing ass. Blaine ground back against it, heedless of his pain; the need to please his master was as acute as his own desire, in fact, they were one. For so many weeks Kurt's pleasure, Kurt's release, had been the only release that Blaine had been allowed and it was like an instinct now, a reflex, so seek out Kurt's pleasure when his own need overwhelmed him.

But Kurt had other plans. "Be still," he whispered, wrapping both his arms around Blaine's waist this time, hugging him from behind. "You were so good," he said, his lips brushing thrillingly against Blaine's ear. "You took your spanking so well, I think you deserve a reward, don't you?"

Blaine was going to reply in an enthusiastic affirmative, but then Kurt's hand wandered down his belly and circled his throbbing cock and words were no longer an option.

"You know you have to tell me when you're close," Kurt reminded him.

Blaine just managed to squeak out a "Yes master," before Kurt stroked his thumb over the head of his cock, slipping wetly through the moisture there. He let his head fall back against Kurt's shoulder and let the sensation overwhelm him. He tried to stay still, he really did, but twenty-three days of teasing and frustration and need were twisting in his balls and his ass ached from his beating and Kurt's light touch was never going to be enough. His body, completely beyond his conscious control, began to thrust into Kurt's hand, mindlessly searching for more, more heat, more friction. His hands flexed against the cuffs that held him, as if there was actually some chance he could free himself and reach down to wrap Kurt's fingers around him in a proper grip.

Kurt didn't scold him for moving, and Blaine's body took that as a signal, apparently, pushing faster through the loose circle of Kurt's fingers. It would be enough, it could be enough, if he could just generate enough heat, move fast enough, he was just that desperate, he could feel the pressure building in his balls and gripping tight in his belly. He knew he didn't have permission to come but he pumped like a madman anyhow, chasing the release that Kurt had been holding just out of reach for weeks, until his orgasm loomed close enough that he had no choice but to murmur, "I'm close master."

Kurt's hand barely moved, but pain, deep and blinding, ripped through Blaine's body and a cry that was almost a scream tore his throat as Kurt's fingers wrapped around his balls and _squeezed_.

His legs went limp, but Kurt's arms caught him, freeing his balls and wrapping tight against his chest as Blaine struggled to breathe around the pain curling hot and heavy deep in his belly. But overwhelmed as he was by the unexpected assault, Blaine was also acutely aware of Kurt's cock, surging against his ass. It excited Kurt, hurting him, hurting him so much that he fell limp against Kurt's body.

"Do you have anything to say to me?" Kurt asked quietly, in a husky voice.

Blaine could only think of one thing. "Th-thank you, master."

It must have been the right thing to say because Kurt's hand moved lower again and wrapped around Blaine's cock, tighter this time. Blaine moaned and his head fell again on Kurt's strong shoulder. His feet found purchase on the floor but this time he didn't have to thrust because Kurt stroked, long, proper strokes, and soon the reality of pleasure began to dull the memory of pain, and Blaine thought maybe, maybe this would be it. Bound here, beaten, then made to come at last, stretched and writhing, it was perfect, the perfect birthday present. He was almost one hundred percent sure that that was how Kurt was planning to do it.

But not so sure that he didn't whisper "I'm close master," before the orgasm Kurt was dragging out of him reached critical peak.

He was only marginally more ready for it this time. Kurt's fingers closed tighter, held longer, Blaine's cry _was_ a scream this time, it was impossible pain, pain beyond anything he'd ever felt, tears filled his eyes before Kurt's hand finally, mercifully loosened and moved back to his chest, leaving Blaine to find his way out of the haze of agony.

"So good, so, so good," Kurt murmured in Blaine's ear. "See what you do to me?" He pressed his cock hot and hard against Blaine's ass. "You're so beautiful Blaine. So perfect like this."

Those were Blaine's guides, out of the pain, Kurt' voice and his cock, anchoring him. Until the pain settled deep again, a dark presence, waiting for him, and Kurt's hand crept downward for the third time.

"Please," Blaine whimpered, and his thighs pulled closed, instinctively protecting his cringing balls.

"Open your legs, boy," Kurt's voice was hard, sharp as the pain, and Blaine whined again, but he obeyed. There was no other choice, never any choice but to do as his master commanded.

As if in reward, Kurt's hand closed once again around Blaine's cock, only half-hard now thanks to the pain. But Kurt, of course, knew just how to fix that.

"You must have figured out," he said quietly, his hand moving in a slow, sensuous rhythm along Blaine's cock, "that I didn't do all this handyman stuff by myself. Do you want to know who helped me?"

Blaine moaned and squirmed in Kurt's arms. He didn't want to know. He didn't but he did, and hot humiliation shivered up his body at the thought. His cock began to fill again, and that was all the encouragement Kurt needed.

"It was Puckerman," the irresistible voice teased at Blaine's ear. "He didn't say anything," – Kurt's hand picked up speed as Blaine's cock throbbed against it – "but you just know he was imagining it. What I was going to do to you once I had you strung up naked and desperate."

Blaine's whole body went hot and then cold, and he moaned unreservedly now, thrusting into Kurt's teasing hand.

"Do you think he'll be picturing it, the next time he sees you? Do you think it'll turn him on?"

"Oh God, I'm close!"

He was ready for it this time, but that didn't make it any less agonizing when the fingers closed around his too-full, too-tender balls and delivered gripping pain just as they were expecting ecstatic relief. His cry this time was a wail through gritted teeth, his body went board-stiff in Kurt's arms, but as soon as the fingers loosened their grip his body was wracked with head-to-toe shudders.

Kurt held him tightly, fingers stroking his trembling flesh. "Shhh, shhhh," he breathed against Blaine's ear. "You're doing so well. You're perfect. So good for me." He wiggled his hips, so that Blaine could feel his cock slide through its own precome against Blaine's ass.

Conflicting sensations were wreaking havoc with Blaine's brain and body. Pain, need, pleasure, duty – he knew there was no choice for him, no right way to feel, he had to be whatever his master wanted him to be and he wanted that, he did, but when his shudders began to calm and Kurt's hand drifted toward his cock yet again, his legs pressed closed and he shook his head against Kurt's shoulder.

"No, please, it hurts," he begged, ashamed of himself for his weakness but more terrified of the pain. "Kurt, please, I can't."

"Just one more," Kurt's voice was implacable, his words seemed to offer a choice, but his tone belied them.

"Please . . ."

"One more for me. You can do it, baby. Just one."

It was the _baby_ that did it. The thing that Kurt had only ever called him in his fantasies, and Blaine turned his head and sobbed against his own upraised arm but his thighs inched open, offering his desperate balls up to Kurt's punishment.

"That's it, good boy," Kurt's words were the only balm Blaine was going to get, and he shuddered again and fought to keep his legs open as Kurt's fingers gently caressed over his throbbing balls before wrapping yet again around his cock, which hadn't gone soft this time. It was quicker than his brain, adjusting to the fact that the pain and pleasure went together now, twin faces of the same sensation. Tears filled Blaine's eyes but his hips began to move in time with Kurt's strokes, a slow rhythm this time, dragging it out, loosening his fist when Blaine's thrusts sped up, then tightening again, forcing Blaine's body to move only in Kurt's own time, until Blaine was so lost in conflicting sensations that he barely knew which way was up. He leaned into Kurt's body, rock solid behind him, and stopped trying, to be, to feel, anything. Fear tightened his belly but legs slid even farther apart, his hips tilted, offering his body to Kurt's hand for whatever use he chose.

"Yes," Kurt breathed, "Oh, my perfect Blaine."

Kurt's had sped up, sliding liquidly along Blaine's rigid shaft, detouring every now and then to caress his balls, a teasing threat, and Blaine's breath caught in anticipation every time but his legs stayed open and his body loose against Kurt's. And as his orgasm began to loom yet again, he waited for it, welcomed it, longed for it even though he knew it would end in tearing agony. He shivered and trembled against Kurt's chest, pleasure and fear becoming one, each making the other stronger, more evocative. He waited, he waited until the very last possible moment, hanging on the edge of perfect bliss for what seemed like forever while Kurt's fingers played across the swollen head of his cock, until there was no other choice but to whisper . . .

But Kurt's hand moved before he had a chance to speak, tightening, crushing, merciless, pain blinding sharp as and bright as the sun, and this time when Blaine screamed, he screamed Kurt's name.

* * *

><p>Kurt held Blaine tight as he shuddered and writhed through his battle with the pain. He rocked his own surging cock gently against Blaine's still-hot ass, partly because it seemed to help Blaine ground himself, and partly because it just felt good, and Kurt was allowed to take pleasure in his submissive's body, and even in his suffering. It had taken him some time to really understand that, but tonight he'd given Blaine an opportunity to safeword at every turn, and even as he was begging for mercy, Blaine had never spoken the words that were guaranteed to bring him relief.<p>

Kurt buried his nose in Blaine's sweat-damp curls and breathed in his lover's scent, musky and dark. One hand snaked down Blaine's torso until it reached the head of Blaine's turgid cock, still upright and hard as Kurt had ever felt it.

Blaine jerked against him. "No more, you said . . ."

"I know," Kurt reassured. "No more. We're all done with that, I promise."

Blaine relaxed immediately, melting back into Kurt's arms as much as he could when he was half-hanging from the ceiling. There was no sense of fear as Kurt began to stroke his cock again, he trusted completely that this time there would be no pain. Kurt rewarded his trust with slow, languid slides of his hand, while he gently rutted his own cock against Blaine's perfect ass. Giving and taking pleasure, as was his right. He didn't stop until Blaine was moaning in soft, long exhales and his own orgasm began to loom. It wasn't time for that. Not yet.

Blaine whined when Kurt released his cock, but Kurt ignored it. He stepped back, slowly, carefully shifting Blaine's body until he was holding his own weight, then moved around to face him for the first time since the spanking. He cupped Blaine's face gently, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs until Blaine opened his eyes.

He was far away, Kurt could see, unfocused and fuzzy, but he looked at Kurt with something like awe, as if Kurt was more than his master, a god, maybe, some terrible, wonderful deity come to dole out punishment and reward. Kurt had been afraid of a look like that, afraid of the power it gave him over a Blaine who was too blissed out to do anything but obey. But staring into Blaine's golden, unquestioning eyes, Kurt knew that he had nothing to fear. The more Blaine bent to him the stronger his need to protect and care for him became. Even his own wild arousal had taken second place, tonight, to watching and pushing, calming and challenging the man he loved more than he'd ever imagined possible.

He smiled at Blaine, and when Blaine leaned closer, reaching for a kiss, Kurt gave it to him, brushing their lips together butterfly-light.

"I'm going to let you down now," he said when they parted. "I'll go slow, and I want you to kneel on the floor, okay?"

Blaine nodded, so Kurt stepped back to where the nylon rope was secured to the cleat on the wall. He took one last look at Blaine, stretched and suspended, his cock hard and his ass cherry-red, perfect in every possible way, before he grabbed the rope and held it tight as he unwound it from the cleat. Blaine was heavy but Kurt was strong; he kept the rope taut and moved close again so he could help support Blaine as he lowered to the floor. Then he unclipped the rope and shoved it away, and Blaine, despite the stress his body had suffered, pulled himself immediately upright into correct posture.

Kurt wanted to wrap his arms around Blaine and tell him he was wonderful and kiss him until they both couldn't stand it anymore, but this wasn't done yet, Kurt still had one more thing to pull off and he was determined to see his plans through to the end. So he stood in front of Blaine, still kneeling with his hands bound together in his lap, and waited until those shining eyes raised to look at him.

"You've been so good tonight," he said, leaning down a little to caress Blaine's hot cheek. "Just a little more to go."

"Please . . ."

Blaine let the word trail away, as if he wasn't sure he should be asking for anything.

"What do you want?" Kurt prompted.

In answer Blaine leaned forward just enough to brush his lips against the hard shaft of Kurt's cock. "Please," he said again, looking up through his lashes in the way that he knew Kurt found irresistible. "I want you. Please?"

What good was being in charge if you couldn't change the plan when you wanted to? Kurt stepped closer, so Blaine didn't have to strain, and dropped a hand on Blaine's head, tugging him forward by curls made wilder than usual from heat and sweat.

Blaine was trembling again. He leaned in under Kurt's guidance, parted his lips and eagerly sucked Kurt's cock deep into his mouth. Kurt may have been shoving his own arousal into the background, but Blaine's hungry suckling immediately made him aware of just how long he'd been hard. He rocked into Blaine's throat and Blaine moaned, wantonly, like he'd been starving for the tasted of Kurt's cock. It was beautiful, hot and tempting and Kurt indulged himself in three or four long strokes before pulling Blaine firmly back and away. Blaine made the same whining protest he had when he was strung from the ceiling – and God knew Kurt was coming to love that sound, but he still had one more point to make before he let Blaine take him over that edge.

"On your back on the bed," he ordered.

Blaine had recovered enough from his pain haze that he was able to pin Kurt again with that provocative under-the-lashes look. "Yes master," he said, and deliberately crawled over to the bed. He climbed up, stretched out on his back, and raised his hands over his head, all the while staring at Kurt like a starving man eyeing a lobster dinner. Kurt laughed – he couldn't help himself – and picked up the box the cuffs had been in to fish out another bondage clip. He let it dangle from his fingers for Blaine to see as he walked slowly – he could be provocative too – over to the bed. He didn't touch the body laid out for his enjoyment, no, instead he unclipped Blaine's cuffs then clipped first one wrist, then the other, to the eye bolts on each side of the headboard.

Blaine spread his legs wide in invitation, so Kurt climbed on the bed too, and settled between them, just looking, not touching.

"Please?" Blaine begged again.

Kurt shook his head. "Not yet." He laid his palm flat on top of Blaine's cock. "We still have this to take care of."

Blaine moaned, and his eyes dropped closed. His hips pumped in a tiny, slight movement, as if he couldn't quite manage to control himself, but Kurt allowed it. Encouraged it, even, pressing his hand down in a counter-rhythm.

He waited. Absent any admonishment from Kurt, the slight, involuntary movement slowly became more deliberate, until Blaine was pumping against Kurt's palm, slicking it with precome for an even more delicious slide, moaning softly as he ground against the pressure Kurt provided him. Kurt just watched, enjoying the show, until the pitch of Blaine's moans began to climb closer to soprano. Finally, Blaine's eyes opened, and he looked just as far away now as he had before, transported by pleasure this time, instead of pain.

"Please, can I come? I'm so close," he panted.

"No," Kurt said gently, taking his hand away and leaving Blaine rutting at nothing.

Blaine moaned and dropped his head back on the bed. His hips stilled and his eyes closed. He believed, Kurt knew, that this was an edging game. Kurt would bring his hand back and they'd go through the cycle a few more times, Blaine getting increasingly and impossibly more desperate, until finally the long-awaited "yes" was spoken.

He waited.

Finally, when his cock continued to flex against the air and no touch came, Blaine opened his eyes again, questioning.

"You don't get to come tonight," Kurt said, trying to make it sound as casual as telling Blaine they weren't having steak for dinner.

A look that was close to panic filled Blaine's face. "You're not serious?"

"Are you questioning me?" Kurt's tone left no room for misunderstanding.

Blaine's eyes went wide. "But I can't . . . it's been so long and I've been so good . . . I thought . . ."

Kurt smiled gently at Blaine. He stroked two fingers up the shaft of Blaine's cock and back down again. Up and down. Blaine held perfectly still under his hand, as if his obedience might change Kurt's mind.

"You thought," Kurt said, "that since it was your birthday you deserved to come. But it's not about what you deserve, Blaine. It's about what I want." He stared deep into Blaine's eyes, where panic was battling with the pleasure his fingers were stirring up. Kurt had thought this would be the hardest part, denying Blaine what he really, desperately needed, but he knew it was right because it was so easy to say. "I don't want you to come yet."

He could see the defeat in Blaine's face even as he tried to protest. "It's just . . . it's been so long, Kurt, it hurts. I've never been this hard and I need, I need it to be over. I can't do it anymore. Please."

"I told you I'm going to take care of that for you."

Blaine watched with wide, careful eyes as Kurt reached over him and into the bag he'd left on the night stand. It took a moment for him to understand what Kurt pulled out of it, but when he did his legs began to move, pushing him upward on the bed as if he could somehow escape what Kurt had planned.

"No, please, no Kurt, I don't need that, I don't . . ."

Kurt knelt quietly between Blaine's legs, holding his homemade ice pack and waiting for Blaine to accept the inevitability. He'd never iced his own dick before, but Thomas had told him it hurt like hell, and the more aroused you were the more it hurt. Blaine must have felt that at some point because he was twisting against the cuffs and pleading for all he was worth.

"I can do it, I promise, I can wait, please don't . . ."

"Be still," Kurt finally ordered, and Blaine stopped moving, although he kept his knees drawn up like they could protect him.

"Spread your legs."

"Kurt!"

"Now."

Slowly, inch by inch, Blaine's legs straightened and spread, giving Kurt full access to his swollen balls and his cock, which was dancing as merrily as if it was about to get everything it had ever wanted.

"I'm going to take care of that," Kurt gestured casually toward Blaine's cock with the ice bag, and Blaine flinched in anticipation, "and then I'm going to unlock you and you're going to take care of this," he gestured to his own dick, which throbbed in agreement.

"Please," Blaine tried again, in a voice that sounded small and far away. "I'll be good. I'll stay hard, anything you want." His eyes still begged, but Kurt could see they were starting to lose focus again, going soft with submission.

This was the important part. The part Kurt had pored over to find the perfect words. "Oh Blaine, haven't you figured out yet what your real birthday present is?"

He climbed off the bed then, so he could move closer, resting one knee next to Blaine's chest and leaning toward his ear to whisper, "You keep telling me you want know what I fantasize about. You want me to let go and show you how cruel I am to you, in my head." He pulled back just far enough to look in Blaine's eyes, kissed him ever so gently, then gave him his very best smile. Then he waited, one more careful pause, just in case. But though Blaine's eyes pleaded, he stayed silent.

"Happy birthday Blaine," Kurt said at last, pushing the ice against Blaine's nuts and his lips to Blaine's mouth to muffle the scream.

* * *

><p>Everything was pain, need was pain, pleasure was pain, cold burned through his body and twisted his guts, he was choking on pain, it rang in his ears and burst on his tongue so loud and sharp that he almost didn't hear Kurt clear his throat in pointed command.<p>

His eyes opened, his hands were free, and there was Kurt, his Kurt, sitting at the end of the bed, hard and dark-eyed and the only thing Blaine needed more than his own relief was to feel that cock inside of him, breaching him, splitting him. He turned on Kurt like a wild thing, fell on his cock, sucking it down, dragging it into his throat, too deep, too fast but he needed it. He needed to gag and cough and taste and smell, he needed to give it his very breath, to choke himself with it, to have Kurt as far inside his own body as he possibly could.

It wasn't a very effective blow job. He was too far gone, to wild and desperate, but Kurt came anyhow, and fast, Blaine pulled back when he did so that Kurt's release filled his mouth, overcoming him, even as Kurt's groans in his ears sent him spiraling to new depths or heights, he didn't know which, he didn't know anything but Kurt, his smell, his taste, his flesh warm and soft between Blaine's lips and under his body. But it was too fast, he didn't want to let go, he hadn't had enough. He wouldn't let go, not until he felt Kurt stiffen underneath him. He swallowed, reluctantly, let Kurt's cock slip from his mouth, settled his head in Kurt's lap, the softening cock against his cheek and finally, finally rested.

He didn't know how much time passed.

Eventually something poked at his mouth. A straw, he realized, and he turned away from it and buried his face in Kurt's thigh.

"Drink Blaine," Kurt's voice was less dom now, and more just Kurt. "You need water."

"No," he could hear how petulant he sounded but he didn't care. "Want to taste you."

Kurt hummed a little, and it didn't sound like approval, but the straw didn't poke him again so he turned his head back so that his nose nestled in Kurt's groin. He felt lighter than air and heavier than lead; Kurt's body was both buoy and anchor. He clung to it, drifting.

More time passed.

Eventually his body began to assert itself. His balls ached, he needed to pee, his ass was burning, his wrists were still heavy with the cuffs and his throat was dry as the desert. No sooner had he had that thought than the straw came back and this time he drank, greedily, the cool water was delicious and soothing to his throat. He realized Kurt was stroking him, up and down his spine oh-so delicately, and that his face was wet.

"When did I start crying?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Right after the ice," Kurt said softly.

"Hmmm," was all he could manage.

Kurt started to move, but Blaine wrapped his arms tighter around his waist, keeping him there, he needed him there. Above him Kurt made a noise that sounded like relief, but Blaine was still a little too fuzzy to be sure.

"I'm not going anywhere," Kurt said fervently. "I'm right here. I just want move a little so we can lie down."

He began to shift them around toward the head of the bed, laughing a little when Blaine clung stubbornly to his waist.

"You're just lucky we didn't actually make any mess," Kurt said, reaching with one hand to pull the comforter off the chair and over the two of them, "or you'd have to let go of me."

Blaine answered him by gripping even tighter. The end of the world could come right now and it wouldn't matter in the slightest. He was never letting go of Kurt.


	2. Chapter 2

It took Blaine a long time to wake up. Consciousness crept upon him slowly, in languid waves that bobbed him higher and higher, one after the other, pushing dreams father into the background with each advance and bringing the morning sunlight of the real world, which was getting harder to distinguish from a dream, into sharper relief.

He'd forgotten how it felt, the morning after. After a night when his body and brain had been pushed to the limits of what he thought he could endure and beyond. He'd forgotten the contentment, heavy-limbed and bone-deep, the freedom from the worries and fears that liked to lurk in the back of his brain with a constant subsonic pressure, until the extremity of deep submission wiped them clean. And he'd forgotten that anything he'd felt with any other dom was going to be multiplied exponentially when the dom in question was his soulmate.

Kurt.

He rolled over, hissing sharply when the movement reminded him of the price his balls had paid for his morning contentment, and his arms, and – _ouch! _– his ass. But all of that faded when he found Kurt wide awake, propped up on one elbow and watching him with anxious, cloudy eyes.

Blaine didn't like Kurt looking anxious, so he smiled sleepily up at him. "I had the strangest dream," he all but purred.

"What did you dream?" Kurt's mouth quirked at the corners, but didn't quite lift into an actual smile.

Blaine snuggled against his pillow and let his eyes droop closed. "Mmm. I dreamt that you tied me up, hung me from the ceiling, beat me, tortured my balls, teased me until I begged then iced me into submission and made me blow you instead."

Above him Kurt huffed an almost-laugh, a short sound, more nervous than relaxed.

Blaine opened his eyes again, but Kurt's eyes still questioned so he stretched elaborately, then winced. "I just can't figure out how a dream could leave me so fucking sore."

Kurt's teeth worried at his bottom lip before he spoke. "Sore like, best birthday ever, or sore like, please never do anything like that to me ever again?"

Kurt's voice was light but tension pulled at the corners of his eyes, so Blaine abandoned his play, scootched closer, ignoring the not inconsiderable discomfort, and smiled up at him.

"Sore like, you are the greatest dominant in the history of domination, and whatever I did to deserve you I just hope I manage to keep doing it for the rest of my life."

The reward of seeing the doubt disappear from Kurt's face, replaced by a clean, shining smile was worth every bit of the pain.

"Really? I know I pushed things a lot farther –"

"Really," Blaine said. "Also, best birthday ever. Although I honestly could have just knelt on the living room floor all night while you read and it still would have been the best birthday ever. At least since I stopped measuring birthday success by number of superhero action figures."

Kurt laughed at that, and Blaine sniffed suspiciously at the smell of mint wafting in his direction.

"You've been up!" he accused.

"I woke up and I couldn't go back to sleep," Kurt confessed. "And I was possibly the tiniest bit nervous about how you were going to react when you woke up. I groom when I'm nervous. I can't help it."

"Kurt." Blaine let a shade of reproach color his voice, because he never, ever wanted Kurt to feel sorry for anything like last night, or to doubt how much Blaine needed his exact brand of dominance. "Last night was a gift. I know you pushed yourself for me. So that I could let go completely. I know that scared you, but you did it anyway. You did that for me. How could it have been anything but perfect?"

Kurt dropped his head back down onto his pillow and rolled closer to Blaine, until they were almost nose to nose. "I loved it," he whispered, like he was confessing a great secret. "I thought I might get lost in it, take it too far, but I knew as soon as I safeworded that that could never happen. I knew, as soon as I looked at you that you weren't okay, and it didn't matter how turned on I was, I had to fix it." His free shoulder lifted in a little shrug. "I guess that's part of dominating. Mira said it would be but I had to feel it for myself, to trust it. After that it was like I was two different people. One who was keeping track of your breath and the color of your skin and how fast your heart was beating, and the other just . . ."

"Just what?" Blaine prompted, watching the color rise delicately in Kurt's cheeks.

"Just . . . getting off on it," Kurt ducked his head a little, but he brought his eyes back to Blaine's. "I fantasized about hurting you, you know that, but I just never imagined how much it would turn me on to actually do it. And when you begged me to stop – I've never felt anything like that. Holding your whole world in my hands, I can't even describe what it felt like. And Kurt Hummel at a loss for words is not something that happens often, I can tell you that."

"Maybe it's a good thing you are, though."

"Why?"

"Because you're starting to turn me on and right now being turned on isn't exactly . . . comfortable." Blaine smiled ruefully and Kurt's mouth twisted in an unmistakably cat-that-ate-the-canary way.

"Well you need to head to the bathroom and get cleaned up, anyhow," Kurt said. "I have one more birthday present for you."

Blaine's concern must have shown on his face because Kurt's eyes narrowed. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"I just, don't know if my body's quite ready for another birthday present."

"Relax. It doesn't involve _your_ body at all. Unless you want it to. Go!"

Thoroughly confused, Blaine slid carefully out of bed and made his way gingerly toward the door. He didn't want Kurt to feel guilty, so he refrained from wrapping a hand around his balls to support their aching weight until he was out of sight in the hall.

* * *

><p>Kurt tried very hard not to blush, but he was sure he failed. He had no problem being naked with Blaine – his self-consciousness about that had disappeared long ago – but this was different. This was <em>display<em>. Very intentional, deliberate display. He'd folded the comforter over the chair and spread himself across the bed, reclining back against the pillows propped on the headboard, legs spread wide, two fingers looped through each of the eye bolts in the headboard. It was as deliberately lascivious as he'd ever tried to be. And the longer he lay there, alone, the more his brain tried to second-guess the whole idea.

Fortunately, Blaine didn't take long in the bathroom. And the look on his face when he crossed the threshold made all of Kurt's doubts turn tail and scatter.

"What . . ." Blaine began, but whatever else he meant to say must have gotten lost between his brain and his mouth.

"It's your present," Kurt supplied helpfully. "It's me. My body," he clarified. "It's yours. You can do o whatever you want. No restrictions. Well, except you can't come, obviously, unless I say."

"Obviously," Blaine managed. He still hadn't moved from the doorway, which was starting to be a problem for Kurt's confidence.

"But anything else. If you want to just stick your nose in my crotch and smell me for a couple of hours, well, I may die of embarrassment, but I won't stop you."

Blaine must have heard the uncertainty in Kurt's voice because he finally left the door and moved toward the bed, and despite whatever pain he might be feeling, his cock started to thicken as he moved.

"Really?" Blaine asked, and the excitement in his voice boosted Kurt's confidence infinitely.

"Happy birthday," Kurt breathed, and stretched his legs wider just so he could watch Blaine's eyes go dark.

Blaine, completely in the spirit now, slinked toward the bed with deliberate slowness. "Don't think I won't smell you for a couple of hours," he grinned.

Kurt shrugged, which was kind of hard to do with his arms stretched out holding the eye bolts. "It's your present."

He was trying for nonchalance, but that went out the window, along with the last shreds of self-consciousness, when Blaine climbed onto the bed and straddled Kurt's legs, leaning forward to crawl up the mattress toward him.

"It's a testament to the quality of your present," he teased as he moved closer, "that it hurts like hell to be hard right now but I don't. Fucking. Care."

Kurt would have laughed at that, but Blaine's mouth was in the way, capturing his breath and sucking it away in a deep and searching kiss.

"Are you going to move your hands?" Blaine breathed against Kurt's lips as they parted.

"Only if you want me to."

"I want you to."

Kurt didn't need to be asked twice. He loved running his fingers through Blaine's hair, and he knew Blaine loved it too. And true to form, Blaine hummed happily into the next kiss, so Kurt tightened his grip until the hum graduated to a purr. He kept hold as Blaine's mouth moved to nibble his jaw, down the long line of his throat, which he stretched generously, to give Blaine plenty to work with, and lower, past the dip between his collarbones.

Kurt knew Blaine loved to worship his body, but the gift of it, the permission to do whatever he wanted in his own time, seemed to inspire him. Kurt's cock went from nervous limp to hard before Blaine finished with his left nipple, he was moaning freely after the right, and as Blaine moved lower, teasing breath over his navel, he gasped.

"This is starting to feel more like my present than yours," he said breathlessly.

Blaine's only response was to move lower, ignoring Kurt's dick entirely, and press his nose to Kurt's balls with a dramatically loud inhale.

Kurt laughed out loud, but broke off into a moan when he felt one of his balls sucked into the heat of Blaine's mouth. He tightened his hand around Blaine's curls in retaliation, drawing an answering moan from the man busy between his legs. Then he let go, because if this was what Blaine wanted to do with his present, Kurt was going to enjoy it.

It was a strange blow job, subtly different from past efforts, and it took Kurt a minute to figure out what that difference was. Blaine loved blowing him, Kurt knew that, but while he usually used his mouth to please Kurt, this time he was pleasing himself, moving more randomly, following his own whims, following his nose, as it were, around the smells and tastes and textures he craved at any given moment. It felt almost backwards to Kurt, aimless, and oddly enough, knowing that his orgasm wasn't Blaine's first priority at the moment only made it hotter.

That and the way Blaine moved, nuzzling deep against Kurt's body, tiny noises escaping and vibrating his chest and throat in ways that Kurt could feel as well as hear. He was lost in it, Kurt realized. Lost in _him_, so far gone to it that his hips were rocking, humping into the mattress between Kurt's feet with no regard for the pain it had to be causing his battered balls. So far gone that he didn't stop when his tongue had fully explored the sensitive space behind Kurt's balls, but kept going . . . going . . .

"Fuck!" Surprise wrenched open eyes that Kurt didn't realize he'd closed.

From between his legs Blaine's golden eyes peeked up, equally startled, and wary around the edges.

"I'm . . . sorry?" Blaine offered, his voice high and breathy.

"No, it's okay, I just – never felt that before."

"I can stop, if you don't like it."

"No, I like it," Kurt rushed to correct him. Too fast, his own unexpected fervor made him blush hot and red. "I think I like it. It's just – new. But I did say you could do anything."

Blaine watched him as he settled back on the pillows behind him and deliberately closed his eyes. He felt gentle hands nudge at his thighs so he spread them wider, pulling his knees up toward his torso, trying very, very hard not to think about how he must look, obscenely offering himself for _that_.

Fortunately, Blaine resumed _that_ before Kurt had too much time to dwell on the details. And once Blaine's tongue was back wreaking delicious havoc on a spot that Kurt had never known was capable of feeling the way it did at this moment, he was far too busy trying not to shout more obscenities to worry about how he looked. It was hot, hotter than hot, it burned like molten lava through his ass and his cock and down his legs. It was dirty and messy, wet where he shouldn't be wet but the taboo of it all only seemed to drive him higher. He cursed the solid slab of headboard, with no convenient slats to hold onto. His hips began to move without his permission, twisting down, grinding into the tickling tease of it, and when Blaine started making those sounds again, like a desperate, starving thing that needed the taste of Kurt to survive, well, he decided he would be happy if this went on forever.

Which was exactly when Blaine stopped.

Kurt didn't quite stifle a cry of dismay, and he opened his eyes again to find Blaine, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself, grinning up at him.

"So you seemed to like that."

It was an almost criminal understatement, and Kurt wanted to give it the sarcastic reply it deserved, but he didn't trust his voice not to break, which would have completely destroyed the effect, so he settled for a silent nod.

"I'm wondering if there's something else you'd like." Blaine's words were tentative but his eyes sparkled and he touched the tip of one finger oh so gently to Kurt's puckered hole, swirling a little in the wetness there.

Kurt knew this was a moment that required actual words. "I did say anything," he managed, though his voice cracked like a twelve-year-old's halfway through "anything."

In one swift move Blaine was off the bed, into the drawer in the nightstand, and back between Kurt's legs, lube in hand.

Kurt closed his eyes again, and when the finger came back it was thick and slippery with lube.

"Don't forget to breathe," Blaine said, his finger teasing around Kurt's opening in a way that was starting to recall the sensations his tongue had caused. "It feels weird at first, but if you relax, it's really great."

Kurt nodded without opening his eyes. He forced himself to inhale and exhale, remembering all the things Blaine had breathed through for him the night before. And he really did want to try. And the way Blaine was rubbing was definitely helping in the relax department. When Blaine's free hand wrapped loosely around Kurt's cock and stroked, he actually moaned, and Blaine's finger slipped inside of him with almost no resistance at all.

It did feel weird. But not weird-bad. Kurt instinctively pulled his legs wider, and the finger went deeper, holding him open but only a tiny bit, and as it slid out and back in again, rubbing against things that had never been rubbed before, Kurt soon began to feel like a tiny bit was nowhere near enough. He opened his eyes to smile reassuringly at Blaine, but Blaine was staring down, watching as if mesmerized as his finger moved in and out of Kurt's body.

"Try two fingers," Kurt suggested, but then, remembering who was supposed to be in charge at the moment, amended, "If you want to. It's your present."

"I want to," was all Blaine said before the stretch went wider, doubled in fact, and that was a lot, Kurt's body tightened around the intrusion and had to take a few more conscious breaths before Blaine's fingers could resume their gentle slide.

With two fingers Blaine could reach more places, and it was only a matter of time before he found his angle and what had been a pleasant, teasing sensation up till then suddenly bloomed into heat and fireworks and pleasure that rooted in Kurt's core in a way he'd never experienced before. He cursed again, drawing a chuckle from Blaine, who went to work on that spot with a will, and between that and the hand on his dick, he soon had Kurt grinding on his fingers like he'd been doing this all his life.

Kurt writhed in the throes of this new kind of pleasure, so different from the other sensations his body had always given him. He couldn't be still, he _had_ to move, his head rolled against the pillows, his fists clutched the sheet, and he rode Blaine's fingers, barely aware of two becoming three, and three, four. The discomfort of the stretch hurt and yet it didn't, it was part and parcel of the heady new things Blaine was doing to him. It felt like too much, but then when Blaine's fingers receded, sliding all the way out and leaving him empty, he wanted it back with everything he had.

"You're so open," Blaine whispered, looked from Kurt's ass to his face with almost worshipful awe. "Your body just . . ."

"Don't stop." Kurt tried very hard not to whine, but he didn't succeed. "I like it. Keep going."

"I almost think I could . . ."

Kurt caught his breath and waited for him to finish, but Blaine had gone very still, staring at Kurt, his eyes dark and intent. There was a long moment of silence between them, question and acknowledgement, and although he didn't really have to, Blaine spoke anyhow.

"Anything?"

Tension fluttered Kurt's belly, but he nodded. "Anything."

"I've actually never . . ."

"Well, my first time was on my birthday, so it seems appropriate."

Blaine smiled at that, but it was thin and quick to fade.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked.

"I want to, God knows I do. But I don't know if I can." Blaine tilted his head a little, looked away, then back. "I don't know if I can without coming."

Blaine was begging, eyes wide, lips pressed tight. Kurt knew he wanted this desperately, and he was afraid of what it might cost him. It was his birthday. It would be so easy, and only fair, really, to give him what he wanted.

"Well then," he said, as firmly as he could manage with a gaping ass that wanted to be filled, "I guess you'll have to decide whether it's worth the risk."

He could see Blaine's throat work as he processed the answer. He could also see Blaine's cock, pushing hard up toward the ceiling, moist and glistening in the morning light.

Kurt lay perfectly still and watched Blaine struggle with himself. It wasn't fair, he knew, school was only a week away and if Blaine lost control, and had to be punished, he'd be spending their last full week together unable to touch Kurt at all. But almost since the day they met Blaine had been asking to be pushed, and pushing came on Kurt's terms, not Blaine's. So he watched and waited, until Blaine shook his head a little, took a breath, and climbed off the bed again.

Anxious as he'd felt, Kurt's heart sank a little, only to bounce straight back to nervous when Blaine reached into the bedside drawer for a second time and pulled out a little foil packet.

"Condom?" he asked. They'd pretty much given up condoms once it had become apparent that Blaine was safe.

"I'm hoping it'll help me hold back," Blaine said with a lopsided smile.

He hissed a little as he rolled the condom down and coated himself with lube, as if just that much stimulation was too much.

"Any last words of advice?" he asked as he lined himself up at Kurt's suddenly-feeling-much-less-loose entrance.

"There's never too much lube. And take your time. It's going to feel amazing but don't let that make you forget what my virgin ass is going through."

Blaine huffed a breathless chuckle, so Kurt counted that as a win. But still he didn't press in, only teased the head of his cock around the opening. And as good as that felt, if this was going to happen, Kurt needed it to happen now.

"What are you waiting for?"

"I just, I love you," Blaine said, his voice heavy with emotion. "I _love_ you."

Considering his edict about not coming, Kurt counted that as a win too.

Then a cock that was suddenly twice as big as it had ever been before was pressing forward through muscles that weren't sure they wanted it there and he completely lost the ability to count at all.

* * *

><p>Blaine was in trouble. Big fucking capital T trouble.<p>

He was pretty sure he'd never felt anything so amazing in his entire life. Sensations played on a loop in his brain, the _heat,_ the unbearable heat of it, and the squeeze, impossibly tight but unbelievably soft, and the sounds Kurt was making, tiny whimpers and long, shuddery exhales, the way he trembled under Blaine, and best of all, or worst, from his side of the equation, was knowing that _this_ was what Kurt felt like inside of him, this was the pleasure fucking him gave Kurt, and that more than anything threatened to overwhelm his already tenuous self-control.

"Oh, God, Fuck," Kurt's hands wrapped around Blaine's shoulders, tightened like claws as Blaine pushed in with superhuman slowness, and their eyes locked, each reflecting his own trust back at the other, until Kurt's finally dropped closed, overwhelmed by sensation. But he didn't let go. He held onto Blaine and Blaine watched tiny muscles twitch in an involuntary dance across his face. He moved in agonizing millimeters, each advance enveloping more of his cock in the tight hot perfection of Kurt's ass, _Kurt's ass_, and he knew he should be reciting times tables or thinking about something gross to keep himself back but that wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want distraction. He wanted to be here, feeling every moment of this, with the orgasm of his life, three long weeks delayed, unfurling like a snake in the space between his balls and cock, stretching itself, feeling out the edges of his control ready to take advantage of the slightest crack. And oh, he longed to set it free. He wanted to know what it would feel like to come like this, held so tightly by Kurt's young body, and the thought of being there, having this, so close, and being forced into yet another aching denial was too much to bear.

He shifted his weight enough so that he could wrap a hand around Kurt's cock, forcing himself to concentrate on what was important, on his dom, on his _place_, but as he stroked and pushed deeper Kurt threw his head back with a groan and the long stretch of his pale throat did nothing to help Blaine's control.

They were both gasping, and trembling, when Blaine finally bottomed out, his still very tender balls bouncing against Kurt's ass.

"I think I really need you to move," Kurt said when Blaine didn't.

Blaine didn't want to move. He wanted to live here, just like this, buried in Kurt's body, with Kurt shivering underneath him and Kurt's surging cock in his grip, both of them balancing on the edge of ecstatic oblivion. Even if only one of them would actually get to experience it. He didn't want to move, but he wanted to see what Kurt would do if he did.

So, slowly, but not as slowly, he pulled back until only the head of his cock breached Kurt's hole, then smoothly, faster, slid back in.

And _Christ,_ it was beautiful, a sliding wave of unbearable pleasure as the tight sphincters caressed down the length of his cock and back up again. Kurt cried out in a long, gentle keen, a new sound, a sound Blaine had never heard him make, a sound _he_ caused, and he had to stop again when he reached the bottom because his head was spinning.

"Am I going to have to ask for every thrust?" Kurt panted. His eyes were pleading and God that was beautiful. Too beautiful.

"I'm pretty sure if I do that again I'm going to come," Blaine panted back. "In fact I'm pretty sure that I'm actually going to have to stay like this forever because if I try to pull out I'm going to come."

Kurt's hands moved then, sliding up Blaine's shoulders to cup his face. "Do it again," he said softly, but with the quiet force of a command.

Blaine shook his head. "I can't . . . I'll . . ."

"Blaine." Kurt's fingers gripped tighter, holding him still. Then he smiled the beautiful smile that always made Blaine want to fall down and worship at his feet. "Happy birthday. Keep going."

Blaine gaped at him in absolute astonishment, hardly daring to hope that Kurt was saying what he thought he was saying.

"Well," Kurt prompted, "are you my obedient boy or aren't you?"

Elation sang through Blaine's body and he challenged his balance just enough to lean down and kiss Kurt like he'd never get another chance. When he pulled away he knew he was grinning like an idiot but he couldn't help it. And it was okay because Kurt was too.

"I am, I am so fucking obedient."

"Yes you are. Now move."

Blaine moved. God, did he move, and with permission came a new degree of control, knowing that he could, that he would, made the need just that little bit less immediate and though the tight, hot slide in and out completely took his breath away, he could do it, he managed each thrust, two, three, four more, stroking Kurt's cock at the same time, the pain in his balls as they tightened in preparation only making it better somehow, reminding him of the absolute authority of Kurt's crushing hand the night before. And it was that thought, and Kurt's beautiful cry, and the agonizing pressure as Kurt's body clamped down on him that finally drove him over that long-awaited edge into the white-out ecstasy of his first orgasm in twenty-four days.

* * *

><p>Kurt hadn't waited twenty-four days to come, in fact, he hadn't even waited twenty-four hours, but still it seemed like the aftershocks kept rolling through his body longer than they ever had before. Every little twitch would remind him that his ass was still full of Blaine's cock and he'd shudder through another one. Blaine had collapsed, heavy on Kurt's chest with no regard for the semen that had spilled there and Kurt was planning to be thoroughly grossed out by that just as soon as his brain came back online. Right now, though, he was content with being just one half of a pile of sexually drained flesh. Almost drained, he amended, as another twitchshudder twisted his shoulders.

"That," Blaine gasped, "is not easy. How do you do that?"

"Huh?" was Kurt's eloquent reply.

"The thrusting with the stroking and the balancing. How do you keep track of it all?"

"Natural top I suppose." Kurt was too wiped out to bother with modesty. And Blaine's cock was starting to soften inside him, which was the strangest sensation and required all of his attention.

Blaine just nodded silently against Kurt's chest.

"You're going to have to move this time, you know," Kurt told him. "We definitely made a mess."

Blaine didn't cling like he had last night. Instead, he pushed himself up just enough to reach Kurt's lips with his own. Kurt, once he'd determined with relief that nothing slimy had reached Blaine's mouth, at least, kissed back enthusiastically.

"Was it okay?" Blaine asked as they parted, and Kurt could see from the tension around his mouth that he really needed to know.

"It was perfect," Kurt smiled up at him. "You were perfect."

The anxious lines disappeared and Blaine grinned for real. "In that case, I'm going to go grab a washcloth and then we're going to cuddle for the next six hours or so." He wiggled back just enough that his cock slipped out of Kurt with a squelch.

Kurt had to suppress a wince – it was such a strange feeling – but he smiled back at Blaine. "Can we eat something at least?"

"I'll think about it. But seriously, the only thing I want to do from now until dinner is hold onto you and try to figure out which of my birthday presents I liked best."

"Oh! Crap!" Kurt pushed himself up. "I almost forgot, I have one more present for you!"

Blaine's eyebrows shot up, and if he was trying to hide his alarm he utterly failed.

"No, it's not sex. No kind of sex," Kurt laughed, "It's from my dad."

Confusion replaced alarm.

"He wanted me to give it to you in private."

Alarm supplanted confusion.

"Stop!" Kurt smacked Blaine playfully on the arm. "I'm sure it's nothing. Bring my bag in from the living room when you come back."

When Blaine returned with a warm washcloth and Kurt's messenger bag, he sponged at Kurt's chest while Kurt rummaged for the present.

"There you go," he said, pulling out a plain white business-sized envelope, blank, except for Blaine's name written in blocky letters.

Blaine looked at it like it might bite him before taking it gingerly from Kurt's hand with his fingertips.

"Stop!" Kurt said again. But he couldn't suppress his grin.

Blaine grinned back and wiggled his eyebrows as he slipped his thumb under the flap and slid it along the crease, splitting the parchment. He kept the dramatics going as he peered into the envelope with one eye closed, then reached to pull out a single piece of paper. He unfolded it gingerly and cleared his throat as if preparing to read aloud, but whatever was written there made him drop the comical act. His eyebrows drew together in genuine confusion as he started at the paper.

"What's it say?" Kurt asked anxiously.

Then suddenly Blaine gasped, his eyes went wide then filled with _tears,_ which set Kurt's heart racing.

"Blaine, what is it? What does it say?"

Wordlessly, Blaine handed the paper to Kurt. He took it, turned it around, and found just one word, written in his dad's unmistakable heavy print.

_Tuesday._

Kurt's eyebrows pulled together in a mirror image of Blaine's reaction.

"Tuesday? This is his present? He's giving you Tuesday?"

Then in a blinding flash of insight it hit him and again, just like Blaine, he gasped. "He's giving you Tuesday!"

Blaine just nodded, his Adams apple bouncing up once and down again.

"He's giving us Tuesday!"

"Do you know what this means?" Blaine breathed.

"Tuesday!" Kurt repeated, and suddenly he was laughing, elated, just the relief on Blaine's face made him want to hug his dad and never let go.

"Two nights," Blaine said, and his voice trembled with emotion. "That's the longest I ever have to be without you. I was so afraid. I didn't know how I was going to survive it after this summer but now . . . oh God, I love your dad!"

The tears spilled over then, and Kurt wiped them off his cheeks, then kissed him hard.

"This is all because of you," Blaine said as soon as his lips were free.

"No . . ."

"He never would have done this if you hadn't managed it all so well. School and glee club and me, you keep all the balls in the air and you make it look so easy . . ."

"It's not easy," Kurt said, still caressing Blaine's damp cheeks. "But it's worth it. More than worth it."

And that was the point of everything, Kurt realized, as he pulled Blaine down onto the bed and cradled him on his now-clean chest. Seeing Blaine, _his_ Blaine, like this, relaxed, happy, satisfied and satiated, was so much more than worth the extra effort it took to juggle all his responsibilities and look Kurt Hummel effortless while doing it.

"Tuesday," Blaine said again, snuggling against Kurt's chest.

"My new favorite day of the week. But you shouldn't be so excited. Now I'll have one more day to torture you."

Kurt expected Blaine to laugh at that, but he was quiet. He pressed a kiss to Kurt's sternum then said, "Speaking of torturing me, did you mean what you said last night? About having help? About Noah?"

It was Kurt's turn to be quiet.

"Well?" Blaine asked again.

"I don't think you really want to know the answer to that," Kurt said.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

"But think about it. If it's true, then you have to face him knowing what he knows, but if it's not true, then how effective will me trying to humiliate you ever be again?"

Blaine hummed a little, then kissed Kurt's chest again. "You do have a point."

Kurt smiled up at the ceiling. Another delicate dom situation navigated. He was getting very good at this, if he did say so himself.


End file.
